


Her Heat

by NeverAgainEvan



Series: Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Made Sexy, Storytelling, just love, not porn though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAgainEvan/pseuds/NeverAgainEvan
Summary: Jon doesn't go to the wall and goes south with Robb to save his father. Robb needs him to do a job for him. While completing the job Jon  meets the most wonderful woman he ever will.





	Her Heat

How did this ever happen, him laid in the moss naked and sweating from exertion, beside a woman as beautiful as the moon that watched over them. She might have been a crannog woman, but it didn’t matter to him. Robb and father, _once they saved him_, would question his choices, but Jon felt at peace for once since news of father’s capture graced the walls of Winterfell.

She nuzzled deeper into his neck and moaned loud as his hand gripped her small but round and soft buttock. “Jon…,” She whispered and bit his ear playfully. He groaned in response. “Jon.” She said stronger and her voice was deep with want and need.

A pale, skinny leg wrapped around his waist and straddled him tight to her core. Long brown hair usually braided cascaded over them, blocking the world from view. Green eyes bore into his soul, while a small hand slowly trailed down his chest. Her fingers were warm and cool as they trailed a line of desire and passion from nipple to nipple, navel to collarbone, collarbone to belly button, belly button to Jon’s cock standing at full mast. She gave it a squeeze before releasing and kissing him hard.

“Tell me about the Knight of the Laughing Tree again,” he said between kisses.

“Again? I’ve told you ten times already Jon.”

He blushed, “I feel a connection to it. Something I can’t place.”

Her eyes widened in recognition before dipping to suck on that spot of his neck that made him gasp in pleasure. They found it by accident the day before and now his neck was bruised. “Work for it,” her voice was as sensual as her fingers tweaked his nipples.

They found they liked that as well.

His hands flew to her core and settled on the nub there, her head whipped back in a moan. “I’ll make you work so hard your legs won’t work,” he rubbed slowly and sure, her mouth set in a small smile that made him happier than anything before, and the throaty whimper that escaped her lips made him prouder than when he first disarmed Theon.

Her breath was heavy. He kept his pace slow and sure, and sure enough she was bucking into his hand. He stopped when she did so, “Jon,” she whined.

He rubbed then pulled his hand back from her core. Her hips bucked and followed his hand leaving a trail of wetness on his lower belly. “The story,” he commanded softly.

“There,” her breath hitched as his hands kneaded her small breasts. “There was one knight,” said Meera, “in the year of the false spring. The Knight of the Laughing Tree, they called him. He might have been a crannogman, that one.” She smiled down upon him, every word was accompanied by a tweak on his nipples. He returned in kind. 

“There was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees and learned all the magics of my people.”

“Your father, yes?” Jon asked as his hand descended on her nub again. He figured out this one’s character so far, Howland Reed was a strange man indeed. When he laid eyes on Jon, his first word was Lyanna instead of Ned, like everyone else says. Honestly, Jon was perturbed and a little offended to be mistaken for a woman. Theon always mocked his pretty, little baby face. Though he declines to admit he had a baby face as well just two years ago.

She pinched his nose slightly, “Are you listening?” her face was red, and Jon knew she was close.

“Always,” her lips were like two pillows when he caressed them with his own lips.

Her smile was perfect, this time he blushed and continued his ministrations as she told him about how her father traveled the forests and realms like the Children of the Forest of old did. The winter he spent on the Isle of Faces, and how he came upon a tourney at Harrenhal.

“-the great lion of the rock had quarreled with the king and stayed away, but many of his bannermen and knights attended all the same. The crannogman had never seen such pageantry and knew he might never see the like again. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to be part of iiiitttt!” Her voice ascended into the heavens as she came. Her release was like a tremor through her body.

Her head fell upon his chest and stayed there; her voice muffled as she continued the story. He listened attentively. Waiting for his favorite part, they said it together, animated and laughing, “‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf!”

“That’s the late Lady Lyanna, correct?”

“Of course, unless your sisters were alive almost two decades ago?” Her tease was followed by her hand grabbing his throbbing length. “Are you ready?”

“For you, Meera? Always.” She scooted back almost comically, but he dared not laugh lest he wanted a three-pronged spear in his belly. She sank low and gracefully, like the way she would traverse the bogs, light steps, eyes searching, and moving like she was dancing. Except her eyes bored into his, her hips began to move in a wide circle dance, and her hands were anything but light upon his chest, almost clenching painfully.

Their moans carried upon the wind, but they were so far from camp Jon had no worries. Meera continued through breaths, her dedication was inspiring.

Her ass smacked his thighs enjoyably, he met each bounce with a shallow lift of his hips, with her neck bared and mouth open, Jon rose and embraced her. Her fingers left gashes on his chest when they left them to move to his shoulders for better purchase.

Their breath intermingled, and for a moment it felt like they weren’t as naked as their nameday in the middle of a swamp laying on their clothes and cloaks, but high above the ground in the sky. Like they were one in mind and spirit for a moment. He even lost the common sense of who had a cock and who had a sheath. They were so connected Jon felt like he could know, no he knew what Meera was thinking at the time. Her mind was constantly trying to stay on the story while seeking and giving pleasure. By the time in her tale that Aerys the Mad was wroth enough at the knight, that he ordered his son and knights to find him, they were thoroughly spent, and he released his seed in her.

Meera settled back into his arms and sighed in peace. “My core is sore,” she commented.

“Mine as well,” he smiled.

“We’ve been fucking non-stop for three days now. I guess it’s expected.” Her finger sketched circles onto his chest.

“We do need to go back,” he sighed. Her other hand tightened on him. “I want to stay here forever.”

“I do too,” her lips were set in a firm line. “But you must save your father, and I must go with Jojen soon. It is fate.”

“I was fated to be a bastard, so why can’t we just say, ‘fuck fate’, for once,” though it was a weak argument for he knew his own duties, and Meera hers. He had men waiting for him to return to the front. By now Robb should be near Riverrun, while Jon was ordered to secure the Neck by delivering Howland Reed Robb’s message personally.

Her green eyes seemed to be an unnatural color for a second while they studied him, “Are bastards truly bad?”

“Lady Catelyn says they are,” Jon closes his eyes to block out memories of scrapped knees that Jon endured till Old Nan could kiss it later at night. But when Robb scrapped his own knee, Lady Catelyn was there in seconds if not minutes when duties were elsewhere. “Shouldn’t it be the parent’s fault?”

“Like the tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, nothing is right or pure unless you stand for it.” Her hand continued to sketch circles on his chest. The action so innocent but the words out of her mouth next were anything but innocent. “And if my womb quickens?”

The thought passed over Jon like a cold, chilly wind. He froze and Meera noticed like always, her hand splayed flat on his chest in a comforting manner. He has come in Meera at least two dozen times now, never thinking of the consequences. Ned Stark did say once to Robb, Theon, and him, _‘love blinds_.’ “Wh-, what, wait, what? Are you?" He turned over to look at her, and she glared at him. "I mean has your womb quickened?” He gave a small smile. What would Howland say, what would father say, Robb, Lady Catelyn, Old Nan, the mother he doesn't even know if she's alive or not, would she be disappointed? He tries to put her from his mind.

Her laugh eases his mind. “No, I have been careful.” She pinched his nipple, _hard_. “You haven’t though! How many times have we fucked these last two weeks? Hmm?” Jon scrambled away from her pinch and sent her a glare. She smiled innocently in response. “Even if I wasn’t careful, the babe would be of the swamps and moors. A babe of two bloodlines of kings. Even papa might be happy, but disappointed we weren’t married.”

Jon did forget the Reeds were kings once, actually now that he racked his mind, he wasn’t sure, but why else would she say two bloodlines? Are they descended from the Warg King? Perhaps.

“Speaking of your father. Why did he order you tell me that tale of my aunt?” Jon was curious, glad, but curious. Without Meera telling him that story on that balcony, then Jon wouldn’t have asked her to take him hunting. Then the lizard-lion wouldn’t have tried to kill and Meera wouldn’t of have saved him, then he would never of have kissed her mouth to get her to shut up about safety in the bogs.

She showed him an expression he had never seen grace her face before, incredulity. Her eyes widened and her mouth was open. Meera closed her mouth and stuck up her chin as if he was below her. “If you can’t understand, then maybe I’m glad I’m not pregnant. Only a dimwit would come from your seed!”

He growled her name. He pounced and tickled her and kissed her and repeatedly kissed and tickled her till she was spent from laughing and struggling, and then made love to her exhaustedly once more. Because maybe he did know, maybe he always knew, but it was better and easier to not think about it. And once all the dots connected only one path led straight to the answer Meera and Howland have been giving if but skeptically.

_For what child would want to learn he was born of rape. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you find you have problems with Jon's last train of thought then, just know the story is not heading towards a Rhaegar/Lyanna rape story, but history is made by the victors in he grew up in that victors reign so of course he doesn't know any better.
> 
> This will probably be a story that will be updated periodically, I just wanted to get out this fluffy lovemaking.
> 
> I expect this to be about five chapters long. The next chapters will be longer.
> 
> Also Uncrowned coming soon! With some other stories i have been holding back being last not finishing.


End file.
